“Don’t.” I said. “If you had a bunch of guys’ names tattooed on your body, I’d be a little jealous, too.” I smirked.
“I wasn’t jealous,” she defended. “Well… maybe a little,” she said coyly, without me having to say a word. Hearing her say that she’d been a little envious of the other “women” in my life and the way she’d reacted when she’d seen me with Tally at the bar made it pretty clear that she still wanted me for herself. Now to just get her to admit it.
“Did it hurt?” she asked, trailing her fingertips down the ink. The sensation of her hands on me took my breath. I wanted more. I wanted both hands. And, no clothes. And complete surrender to what we’d been denying ourselves. I wanted all of her. Heart and soul.
“It didn’t feel good,” I laughed. “But once I started, I couldn’t stop. It’d look pretty silly with half a name.”
“True.” She agreed. “Roxanne. Of course.” She smiled and shook her head. “I remember. The bike you had,” she paused, not adding in the before you left part.
“See? You’re a smart cookie, Bennett.” I grinned, tugging my shirt back down before I did something stupid, like pull it completely off and beg her to continue touching me and scare her off.
“Sometimes, I wonder just how smart.” Her smile fell and she pulled her eyes from mine.
“Smartest girl I know,” I promised. “Speaking of... you know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?” I looked ahead at the pond waiting for her to voice her opinion the subject. “On the bike or otherwise.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know.” A fast dirt bike might have been involved in that moment, but I knew we were having a deep conversation beneath the surface of our words. If ever there was a time to confess my undying love for her, it was probably then, but she’d made it perfectly clear that she wouldn’t be putting up with any pressure from me, so I bit my tongue. I looked back over my shoulder at her and when she didn’t look away, I knew that she knew. I wanted to kiss her when she moved to look at me, I wanted to pull her around my body and sit her on my lap the way I used to and kiss her until our lips were numb. But I didn’t. Instead, I revved the bike and gripped the handle bars.
“Hang on, Shutterbug,” I warned. “Let me show you a few new tricks I’ve learned.” I turned us around and sped back across the open grass we’d rode on before. This time popping my front wheel up just enough to earn another squeal of excitement, followed by the melodic sound of her laughter.
I took a familiar route around the property—along the timber line and back up to the area where my parents’ house was being built. It wasn’t the first time I’d rode over the landscape with her on the back of my bike. We used to take the same route when we needed a break from the motors and people that were usually running at full speed on the track. We’d escape off for a little privacy and a chance to talk outside of the noise.
We made a pit stop at the construction site and I gave her the grand tour. The basement was poured, the subfloors down, and some of the walls were up. It was hard to envision it, but I walked her through anyway.
“The kitchen,” I said, stopping in the center of the house and expanding my arms. “Living room.” I pointed across the bare space. “Then two bedrooms, an office, and a couple of bathrooms. It’s not too big, but it’s everything they wanted. I guess it’s kind of hard to tell since it’s unfinished.”
“I can see it,” she said. “Real estate brain,” she winked and tapped the side of her head.
“Yeah, how exactly did you become an agent?” I asked. I’d wondered the day she showed up with the land deed. She was always more interested in the arts than business.
“I’m not really sure,” she chuckled. “I worked for Mr. Hillcrest during the summers when I was on breaks from college and it just seemed like a good idea when he suggested I get my license.”
“I kind of thought you’d be a photographer or something by now.”
“I don’t really take pictures anymore.”